


The Memories of John Watson

by BlueBerryPoptarts



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock (TV) RPF, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alone, Depression, Dirty Thoughts, John Watson's Reichenbach Feels, M/M, Masturbation, Post-Reichenbach, References to Depression, Reichenbach Falls, Reichenbach Feels, Smut, The Fall - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 12:00:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19250785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBerryPoptarts/pseuds/BlueBerryPoptarts
Summary: After the fall Sherlock wanted to contact Watson so bad but couldn't bare to let him go through even more pain and confusion so he sent himself away alone in isolation with only the thoughts of John Watson to keep him company.





	The Memories of John Watson

Sherlock knew that after he fell Watson wouldn’t take it easy. He knew that causing his death would only separate the bond they both shared. After all, he loved the man but that is exactly why he had to jump, in order to protect him. 

The whole situation wasn’t supposed to go south. He was planning on coming back within the month to just lay low for a while until the whole situation with Moriarty cooled off, yet obviously Sherlock had other issues to attend.

The day after Sherlock jumped, he watched from the shadows to keep an eye on his mate John, to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid because he knew that out of the two, Sherlock was more keen with his intillect and Watson acted more out of passion and emotion. 

He didn’t understand how emotions really worked, never tried to understand them either until the day he met John Hamish Watson. The moment that man walked into his life, Sherlock felt something he hadn't felt in a long time, hell he wasn’t even sure if he had ever felt this way before so he knew that this man was somehow special and Sherlock wanted to scientifically figure out why. 

Up until the day he “killed himself” he still didn’t understand how Watson gave him certain feelings. The moment right after he was wheeled into Saint Bartholomews, he could hear Watson sobbing from outside, begging to see his dear friend one last time to try and save his life, although as a doctor John knew that a fall from that height was fatal, yet he still kicked and screamed to be let in. 

All Sherlock wanted at that moment was to just go out there and caress him, pulling him close to his still beating heart and say that he’s okay and he’s not leaving him. For his sake though, Sherlock stayed put just listening to John's pleads, resisting the urge to comfort his dearest friend. 

The next day, John still couldn’t believe that Sherlock Holmes was dead. When he woke up he was furious, which resulted in him destroying the flat, throwing plates, turning over tables, and even punching a hole into the wall. Mrs. Hudson listened in grief and agony, not bringing herself to stop the man from ruining their home, so she just allowed him to take it out on the place that they once all lived in harmony together.

Sherlock waited outside for John to walk out to go somewhere else besides the flat. He knew that by being there, it only caused pain and that’s not what Watson needed. Sherlock expected him to be out within a half hour so he just sat there on a bench nearby sipping a cup of tea, warming up his numb finger tips. 

As predicted, Watson marched out within twenty eight minutes. The appearance of the man made Sherlocks grip tighten. John had tears streaming down his face and bloodied knuckles, presumably by taking out frustration on the walls. His hair was disheveled and his face was red with pure emotion. 

The sight off John Watson made Sherlock want to stand up and rush over towards him to let him know that he’s alive so he could be happy again. Seeing Watson in pain made Sherlocks heart feel like it was imploding within his chest. The way his friend sobbed over the death of himself made him feel like an utterly terrible human being. Emotions were the one thing Sherlock couldn’t grasp. He didn’t know that by offing himself, it would bring this much sorrow to the Doctor. 

He knew that if he went up to his friend, that would potentially put him back into harm's way and Sherlock couldn’t bare the thought of John being in danger, that’s why he would rather have him suffer briefly over his own death rather than always live in fear over his life. Also if he ran up to him at this point in time, Sherlock didn’t know if it would cause him more pain knowing that he just pulled the cruelest prank on his friend or that it would drive him over the edge, potentially making him think that he went crazy over his dead friend.

He stayed behind once again for Johns sake and his own. 

Over the next few weeks, John became less and less angry, even though he still was very irritable but now he was more depressed than anything. Sherlock made his brother keep tabs on his flatmate to ensure that he was alright and if any red flag came up, to alert him immediately. Mycroft reported that for the past few days, Watsons day basically consisted of him waking up around two or three in the afternoon and staying in bed till five until he had to use the restroom. Afterwards he would just go back to bed and stay there. Mrs. Hudson would bring biscuits and other small treats just to try and make him eat. He hardly touched any food, causing him to lose around five kilograms of body weight. 

This pained Sherlock to know that his dearest friend was suffering so he had to leave. He didn’t know where but he felt that if he actually was out of the picture, he believed that maybe John would recover sooner. So he allowed his brother to fly him away somewhere he wouldn’t be reached.

He had no idea where he was when the plane landed, only that it was very cold and isolated. This wasn’t the normal London winter cold, it was harsh and bit the tip of his nose, causing it to turn red and his eyes to water. He figured that he was either somewhere in the midst of Russia, or his brother sent him to one of the poles but he doubted that his brother, a man of business would send him somewhere that he had nothing to do. Obviously in Russia, he would actually be an asset to some project or potential issue that could only be solved using his genius mind.

When he gathered the small suitcase Mycroft packed for him and marched towards the small cottage in the middle of a dense forest, he was pushed and pulled by strong winds which tore the case right out of his hands into the blizzard around him. He was too cold to chase after whatever was inside so he just forgot about it completely and ran indoors.

He made it out of the harsh winds. Sherlock was trembling from the frigid tundra that was outside he needed something to warm up so he went through the cabin searching for any signs of something that could give off heat. He found a small kindling box and quickly started a fire to bring back feeling into his body.

He sat there and watched as the fire danced over the glowing embers. This reminded him of home where he used to sit in his chair with John Watson across from him. It brought back memories of how he used to just watch the flames of his old fireplace in silence with his best mate while he read the paper and sipped on tea. 

The fire isn’t what he missed, it was the memories of John and just being able to physically be with him. He yearned to be with that man, to be held and just let go of all his worries. 

The thought of the doctor flustered Sherlock causing his cheeks to get red and hot. He moved away from the fire to try and calm down, breathing in and out but the more he tried to block out any thought of Watson, the more he remembered. He tried to relax but he kept getting more and more flustered and then he became hot in other areas.

The doctor was invading Sherlock's mind, overwhelming his thoughts causing him to become firmly erect. At first Sherlock felt shameful to be thinking of his friend this way but he was alone. Nobody around him would know what his mind was thinking, so he relaxed and let his mind go.

He imagined John in his old uniform back from when he was a soldier. His hair tousled and his biceps firm, slowly unbuttoning the top of his jacket, revealing what he had to offer underneath. His smooth porcelain skin was hot as Sherlock imagined him on top of him. In Sherlock's mind, Watson passionately kissed him and they both became very hard. Frantically Watson ripped off Sherlocks under garments and tossed it to the side, letting his member be exposed for Watson to gaze upon. 

With force, the man flipped over Sherlock and he inserted his shaft into Sherlock, causing him to let out a soft moan. At first the doctor started slow, going in and out so the delicate man would become used to the feeling of being filled. When there wasn’t much resistance, John started to thrust deep into Sherlock. John grunted and Sherlock whimpered as he went faster and deeper. The faster he went, Sherlock started to stroke his own manhood to get double the pleasure. 

Watson kissed the back of Sherlock’s neck as he thrust into his rear. The man stopped all together as he wailed with delight right into Sherlock's ear while reaching climax, causing his shaft to fill up Sherlocks behind with hot white liquid that overflowed onto the cotton bedsheets which made Sherlock grip the covers and bite the pillow as he felt ever so full with the man he loved.

The thought of all of this, made Sherlock feel so flustered and embarrassed to let himself go but he needed this right now. He was extremely hard and if he wasn’t going to wank himself off, he felt like he would explode so he whipped out his shaft as he sat on the bed and slowly began stroking it. He gritted his teeth and his breathing deepened as his mind allowed him to get penetrated by the Doctor. The skin of his member being pulled back and forth was a sensation Sherlock desired, it filled him with utter bliss the faster he did it. 

As he was stroking it, he couldn’t bare to let his voice unheard. He started to let out little bursts of sound which became louder and more uncontrolled. He felt himself getting close so he pulled faster and harder. At a certain point, he could no longer resist the urge to orgasm. His member shot out hot white cum all over his hands, dripping down onto his bare thighs. The first load came out with force but little spurts of jizz followed after the main shot. Sherlock trembled as he came letting out the loudest moan with the name John followed after. 

He sat there panting in his own mess, reminiscing about his friend. Beads of sweat accumulated on his forehead which dripped down. He was determined to see John Watson once again but he wasn’t sure when but for now, the thought of him would do just fine to help warm up these cold winter nights.


End file.
